


And long ago they passed away (In the forest singing sorrowless)

by coldflashwavebaby



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Elf Barry, Heart Break, I swear there will probably be a happy ending, Immortality, Inspired by The Lord of the Rings, M/M, Multi, Royal Len, The Hobbit/The Lord of the Rings Fusion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-12 07:12:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9061924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldflashwavebaby/pseuds/coldflashwavebaby
Summary: “I would rather spend one lifetime with you, than face all the Ages of this world alone.” Barry whispered, closing Len’s hand around it. “I chose a mortal life.”





	1. Strider

            He came in silence, without any fanfare. A Ranger of the North carrying the name ‘Strider’, asking for temporary shelter. Sara and her sister both watched from the corners of the audience chamber as their father begrudgingly listened to the man’s request. It wasn’t until Strider mentioned the name ‘Wells’ that the king perked up, almost immediately welcoming the man.

            Later, Laurel explained the significance of the name ‘Wells’. “He’s a wise wizard that travels across the lands, giving advice to rulers and helping where he’s needed with his magic.”

            Sara frowned. “I thought wizards weren’t allowed to interfere.”

            “Wells does. If this man is a friend of his, then he’s trustworthy.”

            The thing was, Sara couldn’t picture a great wizard befriending such a wild looking man. He barely spoke to anyone. When he had dinner with them, he sat at the far end of the hall and ate silently. A week or so passed, and Sara was sure she hadn’t heard a word from him since he asked for shelter.

            She was walking her horse back into the stables after a long ride when she caught her first real look at the man. One of the horses, Raatko, was fighting against the stable hands, kicking his legs to free himself. Sara moved to intervene, but a deep voice stopped her.

            Strider stepped into the stable, speaking foreign, calming words to him. When he was close enough, he took the rope from one of the stable hands and rubbed a hand down Raatko’s nose. “Hwæt nemnað ðe?” he asked quietly.

Sara waved the stable hands away, and stepped up beside the strange man. “His name is Raatko. He belonged to the general of my father’s army, Nyssa. She died a few months ago, and Raatko hasn’t allowed anyone to ride her since.”

            Nyssa’s passing was still fresh for all of them. She was Laurel’s dearest friend, their father’s trusted advisor and general, Sara’s…

            Sometimes it hurt too much to think about. Strider looked at her like he knew all about it, and he understood her pain. Sara wasn’t sure if she found it comforting or not.

            Raatko nickered, and the man turned his attention back to the creature. “Av-'osto.” He shushed. He whispered more words to the horse, and Sara realized where she’d heard the words before.

            “You’re speaking Elvish tongue.” She said, shocked. She’d never heard a man speak it so well. “You speak like one of their own.”

            “I had a good teacher.” He smiled, like an old memory passed through his mind. “My mother brought me to Rivendell when I was a baby. I was raised by the lord there, and taught their ways.”

            Sara had never heard of elves taking in a member of another race. And Strider didn’t really look or act like he was raised by the lord of an Elvish house. Still, it explained his friendship with Wells, and his ability to calm Raatko.

He removed the horse’s bridle and patted his side. “This horse has seen enough. No one will ever be able to ride him—you should set him free.”

He stepped back and strode out of the stable, leaving Sara both confused and intrigued.

0000000

The next time Strider happened upon her, she was kicking one of her father’s soldiers to the ground. He smirked as the man dragged himself to his feet in shame and limped away. The ranger chuckled.

“Humiliating your father’s men doesn’t seem like a fair use of your time or ability.”

Sara turned towards the man with a smirk. “Is that a challenge, Strider?”

The ranger drew his sword, and the clanging of metal echoed across the training field. They fought evenly skilled, and Sara couldn’t help but wonder how a Ranger of the North had such great skill.

“Why did you come to Rohan?” Sara couldn’t help but ask as they parried.

“I’ve been here before.” Strider answered nonchalantly. “A long time ago. I actually fought alongside the first King Quentin, back when your father was a young prince.”

Sara lost her footing, giving Strider the upper hand. It wasn’t possible… “You can’t have.” She said, fighting to regain some advantage. “That would put you in your fifties.”

Strider smirked. “Actually, I’m sixty-eight.”

This time, Strider used her shock against her, disarming her gracefully. Sara barely noticed. _Sixty-eight_ …the ranger didn’t look a day over forty, at the most. “You’re one of the Dúnedain.” She realized. “One of the descendants of Númenor, blessed with long life.”

Strider nodded.

“I thought your race had passed into legend."

He sighed, but said nothing, which Sara took as _‘I don’t want to talk about it’_. That’s when she noticed a silver chain around his neck that had fallen from his shirt while they’d fought. On the end was a charm shaped like a lightning bolt, decorated with a shimmering jewel in the center.

“Is that where your jewel came from?”

Strider quickly tucked the necklace away, his fingers lingering an extra second on the chain, like he was remembering something. So, someone he cared about gave it to him. Strider was becoming more and more interesting.

“Who was it?” She asked, bending down to pick up her sword. “That gave it to you?”

At first, she didn’t think he would answer. “Someone I knew a long time ago.” He responded sharply. “Someone who is long gone now.”

He sheathed his own sword and strode away, leaving Sara with a rotten feeling, like maybe she’d scratched at something that was infected.

0000000

Sara spoke to Strider one last time before he left for Gondor, a place he claimed was his home before Rivendell. He was in the stables again, only this time, he was saddling up his horse. Laurel had explained to her about his need to leave—something about a quest from Wells or something. Sara knew better.

“It won’t bring them back.” Strider turned sharply, shocked that someone could sneak up on him. Sara smiled sadly. “Running around, keeping your mind occupied with whatever quest you have—it only extends the hurt. You have to face what happened to the one you love sooner or later.”

Anger flared up in Strider’s eyes. “You don’t know me, Sara. You know some shadow of a man you’ve been pining over these past weeks. You don’t know my life, or what I’ve been through, or what I’ve had to give up.”

He probably expected Sara to be hurt, to run away in anger or tears. Instead, she stepped into the stables with a shrug. “You’re right. I don’t know you. I do know about loss, though. And I can tell by the way you speak that the one you love isn’t dead. Go back and make things right. Even for the Dúnedain, life is too short.”

Strider laughed, cold and humorless. “You’re wrong. Life _isn’t_ short. Not for everyone. That’s the problem—knowing that the one you love would give up their happiness and kin to be with you, only so they can watch you age and die. Then, he’ll be alone and heartbroken with no one there for him. I _can’t_ go back. I don’t have the strength!”

The stables went quiet. Sara couldn’t help but stare at the ranger, finally understanding something all too important. “He’s an elf.” She whispered. “One of the elves of Rivendell...”

All of the aggression melted out of Strider, leaving something sad and withered in front of her. “Not just an elf. Bartholomew, the heir to Lothlórien. The lord of Rivendell wished for me to leave, break Barry’s heart so that he could move on, maybe go to the Undying Lands. Barry won’t though. He’s so hopeful, thinks everything is going to work out…”

“You wanted to protect him.” Sara summarized. “So, you did what his father asked.”

Strider’s hands twitched on the buckle of his saddle. “There were other reasons, but yes. He’s better off without someone like me.”

He climbed up onto his horse with a sigh. There was something about Strider, something almost…regal. He looked and held himself like a Ranger of the North, but something about his presence made Sara feel like she was standing in front of someone great. Sara smiled.

“Good luck, Strider. If you ever need help, send word, and I’ll come.”

The ranger smiled back. “It’s Leonard. Leonard Snart. And I’ll have to take you up on that someday.” He urged his horse forward out of the stable, leaving an awestruck Sara behind.

_Leonard Snart._ The son of Lewis Snart, the dying steward of Gondor, and Shirla, the last known descendant of the line of the old kings. The true king of Gondor, thought to have died years ago, when he and his mother disappeared. She couldn’t believe it.


	2. Dura e' lye (Believe in Us)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Len remembers Barry (The events of this chapter take place before the first chapter)

* * *

 

_“_ _My light does not wax and wane. It is mine to give to whom I will. Like my heart. Go to sleep."_

 

“Sleep…” The brush of breath tickled Len’s nose.

            “I am asleep.” He whispered, opening his eyes slowly for fear that the minute he woke completely, the peace he felt would evaporate.

His heart skipped at the sight above him--a beautiful elf with hazel eyes, gazing into his like he was all that mattered in the world. It was like something out of a fantasy; Barry draped over Len’s chest, dressed only in a sheer robe, his chin propped up on his bare chest while he traced Elvish words onto his skin with his fingers.

A small smile grew on the ranger’s lips. “This is a dream.”

            The elf prince laughed quietly, leaning up to kiss him deeply. “Then it’s a good dream.”

            Len hummed as Barry kissed him again. The prince sat up to straddle his waist, a devilish grin on his lips, and he ran his hands down Len’s lightly scarred torso. His breath caught in his throat, making Barry giggle.

            “Barry…”

             The elf laughed again. This time though, his right hand slid up to the jewel around Len’s neck. The jewel of Barry’s family. His bright grin softened into something more genuine, more serious. He pressed their lips together again, this time, though, it was filled with promise and devotion. With love. Just the thought nearly broke Len’s heart.

            “Barry…” He whispered again against his lips. “We both know I can’t stay.”

            Barry tilted his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

            “I have to leave, Scarlet.” He brought a hand to stroke the elf prince’s cheek, and Barry stared down at him in confusion.

            “But why?”

            Len sighed. “You know why. My father is dying, and my sister needs me. I have to go.”

            Barry laid his hand on the one on his cheek and twined their fingers together. “I can go with you.”

            He resisted the urge to snort. “Barry, the Lord of Rivendell would never let you go with me. You know how he feels about you leaving.”

            A grimace appeared on Barry’s face. Ever since his mother and his father were killed, Joseph, the Lord of Rivendell, took Barry in to raise as his own until he believed he was ready to take his place as Lord of Lothlórien. At least, that had been the plan.

            Len had known Barry nearly his entire life, and Joe never showed any intention of letting Barry go past the Misty Mountains. He was as protective of the elf prince as he was his birth children, Iris and Wallace.

            “Joe has no say in this.”

            Len laughed dryly. “I think you’ll find that he does. You’re his ward, and no matter how much we hate it, his word is law.”

            “Then…” Barry pursed his lips. “Then, we’ll sneak out in the night together. We can go to Gondor, and then Joe can’t stop us.”

            “Barry…”

            “Dura e' amin.” He whispered, dragging his hand from the elf’s cheek down so it laid over his heart. “Dura e' _lye_.” Before Len could reply, Barry once again took his lips, lowering himself so he was sprawled over the Ranger’s body.

            Len knew it would never work. Joe was smart, after all, and Barry wasn’t the best when it came to keeping secrets and being sneaky. But something in Barry convinced him that maybe, just maybe, they could do it. Maybe their love could be enough.

0000000

            It was several nights later when Len snuck out of his room, bag in hand, ready to creep into Barry’s room and sweep him away. He’d questioned it so many times, but he knew deep down that he couldn’t give up on Barry, on their love. His fingers brushed over the lightning bolt around his neck—the symbol of their love. He stepped outside his room, only to find Joseph waiting on the other side.

            “Leaving?” The Lord of Rivendell asked, motioning to his bag. Len sighed.

            “Yes. I decided to leave for Gondor now.” Technically, it wasn’t a lie. “I couldn’t face Barry’s goodbyes.”

            Joe snorted and pushed his way into Len’s room. “Do you actually think you or Barry can hide anything in Rivendell from me, Leonard? You couldn’t hide your relationship when you were young, and you can’t hide what you’re about to do now.” He sat in a chair at the small table in the corner of the room. After an awkward silence, Len joined him.

            “You know that I’ve always disapproved of you being with my son.” Len nodded. The Lord of Rivendell was many things, but subtle was not one of them. “I need you to know that it’s not because I don’t believe that you love him, and it’s not because of your father. It’s because of Barry.”

            Len frowned, and Joe held a hand up to stop any questions. “Let me finish. There are secrets I have kept from him, things that I’m telling you now because, when I’m done, I hope you’ll do the right thing for him.” He took a deep breath. “I always said that Barry’s parents were murdered by orcs during the Second Age. It’s a lie. They were killed by Eobard, the fallen maiar and second Dark Lord.”

            The blood in Len’s veins froze. Every child heard stories of Eobard, from his rise to power, to his death at the hands of Len’s ancestors. He knew that people like his mother believed that Eobard’s spirit somehow survived, but he wasn’t sure himself if he believed it. However, the active fear in Joseph’s eyes were making him question everything.

            “Eobard still lives, formless and powerless, but very much alive. Barry was a baby when he murdered his parents, right before your ancestor slayed him. But I always thought that he wasn’t after them. They were in his way. He really wanted Barry.”

            No.

            “It’s why I won’t let him go East, back to his home.”

            Len furrowed his brow. “So you think that keeping him locked away forever because of a hunch is better?”

            Joe sighed and shook his head. “He needs to go to the Gray Havens. It’s the only safe place for him.”

            Len’s face must have betrayed his feelings—his sorrow and anger. Joe just nodded. “I know you’re angry. I also know that Barry would fight me if I told him the truth. He doesn’t care what happens to him. He’s in love and believes that he’s invincible for it. He won’t listen to me.

            “But, he’ll listen to you.”

            His stomach fell. “I can’t. I can’t ask him to do something I know he doesn’t want to do. I’ll…I’ll think of something. I’ll protect him against Eobard, against Mordor, against anyone who tries to take him!”

            Joe clenched his fists. “And then what, Snart? Maybe you’ll be able to protect him for another eighty years, hell, maybe a hundred, but it’ll only prolong the inevitable. Eventually, you will die. Then, who will Barry have?”

            Len turned his head. He didn’t want to hear this.

            “He won’t die. He’ll be alone, because the rest of the elves will have left for the Havens, and everyone else he’s ever loved will be gone. Do you think that he’ll be happy then? Who will protect him then?

            “I know it’s a lot to ask.” Joe finished. “But, if you really love him, you’ll tell him to leave.”

           

Once Joe took his leave, Len sat alone in the silence of his room, thinking on what he’d just been told. If Barry came to Gondor, he’d be right at the gates of Mordor. From Wells’ reports, the dark forces had been pushing their armies back for nearly a year. If Barry were to come to Gondor, and somehow, Mordor were to overtake them…

Sure, it was a worst-case scenario, but they were living in a world where, more often than not, those came to pass. He grabbed his pack off the floor. He knew what he needed to do.

0000000

_The summers in Rivendell were kinder than in most places. The days were warm, but not enough so that it was unbearable, and the nights had a subtle breeze that would drift through the open windows, but not violently. One such night saw Len curled up on Barry’s bed, his front against the prince’s back, both sated and happy._

_“What are you humming?” He whispered against the prince’s spine, pressing kisses between each notch._

_Barry sighed contently. “It’s Lúthien Tinúviel—a poem about an elvish princess who fell in love with a mortal man. They kept their love a secret, until a friend of hers spied on one of their meetings are told her father. Outraged that a mortal would steal his daughters heart, he set her bride-price as an impossible task—a Silmaril from the Iron Crown. The mortal accepted, despite the princess’ pleas, and he died during his task. Out of grief, she died as well. Eventually, they returned to life together, the princess giving up her immortality to stay with her love always.”_

_Len paused. An elf who gave up their immortality to be with their mortal lover. He wondered about Barry, and if he would ever make that choice. The answer was obvious and terrifying. He stroked his hand up Barry’s sides and moved so his chin hooked over the prince’s shoulder. “Sounds like an interesting story.” He kissed Barry’s neck._

_“My mother used to sing it to me all the time.” He replied quietly. Len frowned; Barry never spoke of his real parents. “When I would have nightmares, she would sit on my bed and hum.”_

_The atmosphere suddenly felt very heavy; Len knew this turn in the conversation meant something, he just wasn’t sure what. “Do you remember the day I first told you ‘I love you’?”_

_Len forced himself to relax as the memory washed over him. “Yes. We were out in the gardens by that waterfall. It was the anniversary of your parents’ deaths, and you were sad. So, I pushed you in the water to cheer you up.”_

_Barry laughed, his face turning so they were gazing into each other’s eyes. “I do, you know. This isn’t some fancy. I love you more than anything. If I could, I would give it all up—my magic, my immortality, all of it.”_

_He shifted in Len’s arms, pulling his silver chain out from around his neck. Len knew what it was—an ancient jewel, passed down through Barry’s family since they came from across the sea. Its glow came from the family’s life source, it’s magic. Barry. Right now, it shined bright enough that Len could barely look at it. He flinched when Barry took his hand and placed the jewel in it._

_“I would rather spend one lifetime with you, than face all the Ages of this world alone.” Barry whispered, closing Len’s hand around it. “I chose a mortal life.”_

_Len just sighed. “Barry…I can’t accept this. You can’t give it to me. It’s your family’s—”_

_“It’s mine.” Barry cut him off, his hand tightening around Len’s. “As the last, it’s mine to do with whatever I want. I want you to have it, so no matter where your travels take you, you always know that someone is waiting for you.”_

0000000

Len was almost to the gates when a voice stopped him. “Is there a reason your sneaking out like a thief in the night?”

He steeled himself and turned to see Barry standing by one of the nearby columns, dressed for travel with a sack at his feet. He put on his cold, Strider demeanor. “I’m not coming back. I thought a clean break would be better.”

Barry frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“This whole…thing between us. It was a fantasy. I’m a mortal, you’re an elvish prince. It was doomed to fail, so let’s just call it a day.” Len turned, forcing his emotions down. Barry couldn’t see him break. Not now.

“You’re lying.” The elf prince darted in front of him, his eyes shining with tears. “I don’t believe you. You love me just as much as I love you.”

Len blew out a breath. Barry was stubborn and resilient. And he could always tell when Len was lying. “Maybe I do. But we still can’t be together. I know that now. I need to go to Gondor, and you need to move on.”

Barry’s brow furrowed, and Len laid a hand on his shoulder. “Barry, go to the Undying Lands. You’ll be safe there and surrounded by those who live forever.”

Anger spiked in Barry’s eyes. “Joe put you up to this, didn’t he?” His voice cracked. “He knows that I don’t want to go, so he’s convinced you to say these things.”

“Barry.” Len shook his head. “This isn’t about Joe. I want you to be happy. You can’t be that with me…not forever. I’ll die, and you…I can’t let the one I love suffer for an eternity.”

Barry leaned forward like he was going to steal a kiss, like it would convince Len to stay, but Len turned his head away. “Goodbye, Barry.” He forced out, pushing past the prince to leave. Deep down, he knew that Barry would stay.

 

Now, as he rode away from Rohan, he had to hope that Joe could convince Barry otherwise.

 


	3. The Light of The Valar

 

            He hadn’t seen the scout. Stupid, amateur mistake. He hadn’t seen the orc scout, but the orc scout had seen him.

            Len had been on the road to Minas Tirith, a little over halfway there, following the cliff above the river Onodio, but his mind and heart were miles upon miles back, past the Misty Mountains, in Imladris. He could see Barry standing at his balcony, watching the sun rise with a grin on his face. He could see the elf prince curled against his side, eyes closed in peaceful sleep. He could see the heartbroken look in his eye when Len left, stabbing the Ranger in the gut.

            He never should have left. But he had to.

            That’s when, out of nowhere, an arrow flew past his ear. There was a single orc scout on warg back charging him, bow raised, and Len barely had the time to draw his sword. Killing the orc was easy enough—the idiot got too close to the sharp end of Len’s arm, and suddenly, there was no one to report back to the army. Unfortunately, the warg gained the advantage of catching him unprepared. It pounced, knocking Len off his horse, spooking the beast and scaring it off.

            Then, it turned its attention to him.

            Len assessed his surroundings. There was no way to go forward without the warg pouncing him. His back was to the cliff edge, above treacherous rapids. He raised his sword. If he was going to go out, he was going to go out fighting.

            That’s when the warg attacked, knocking both off the cliff.

0000000

Barry sat alone in his room, eyes fixed on the darkness growing in the eastern sky outside his window. The days had grown colder in the three months since Len left, and Barry could feel it touch his heart. For the first few weeks, Iris and Wallace tried to comfort him by dragging him to the library every morning, but eventually, they let him be.

            Every now and then, Iris would come sit with him in silence, but her father had been sending her on more and more errands recently. The only positive thing was that Len kept his family jewel. Through it, Barry could feel his connection to him.

            The door to his room swung open quietly, but Barry didn’t turn. Footsteps approached, and a chair was pulled up beside his perch on the bed. “Hey, Bare.”

            He didn’t respond to Joe, instead focusing all his attention on the horizon. His father sighed. “I know you’re upset, but him leaving is for the best.”

            “You sent him away.”

            It was the first thing Barry had said in days. His anger towards his foster father cut through his despair like a warm knife. He couldn’t believe that Joe would be so selfish, that he thought sending Len away would convince Barry to give up on him—on _them_.

            Joe hung his head and sighed. “I know you’re upset with me. Despite what you think, I took no pleasure in convincing him to leave. But it was for your own good.”

            Barry snorted. “Well, it was a waste of time. I’m still staying.”

            He felt a special kind of vindictive joy when Joe jumped to his feet. “Why?” He demanded. “Besides trying to get back at me, what is left for you here?”

            Barry glared up at his father. “I have hope.”

            “Hope?” Joe scoffed. “Hope that one day, Leonard will defeat the Dark Lord and reclaim his throne? Let’s say that happens, Barry. Everything you’ve dreamed for the two of you comes true—then what?”

            Barry frowned, confused.

            “I’ll tell you.” Joe explained. “He’ll die. That’s what mortals are good for. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not in war, maybe peacefully in his sleep at the age of 200. But he will die. And then, what will become of you?”

            Barry’s heart fell. In all his time thinking of his and Len’s future, he never considered a time _after_ Len. A time where he would stand over his grave, attend his funeral, alone.

            “You’ll live on, forever. You’ll become a shadow to the world, your broken heart weighing you down and dimming your light, with no one left to comfort or love you. There’s nothing for you here—only death.”

            A warm streak dripped down Barry’s cheek, and he realized it was a tear.

            “Do you think I want that for you? For my son?”

            Joe stepped closer, moving to kneel in front of Barry, but the elf prince threw himself into his father’s arms and dug his face into his neck. “Ah im, ú erin veleth lîn?”

            “Gerich veleth nîn, ada.” Barry sobbed, clutching Joe’s tunic like a frightened child. He knew what he had to do, but he was scared, so scared of what he was losing by doing it.

0000000

            _May the Grace of the Valar protect you._

Len moaned, his head pounding.

            _May the light of my love ward you from all darkness._

He could feel something like lips press against his. When they touched his skin, it was like new life was breathed into him. When his eyes fluttered open, there was a shadowed figure above him. “Barry?” he whispered in disbelief. Had he followed Len instead of going to the Grey Havens? “Barry…”

            “Shhhh, it’s okay.” A delicate voice whispered. “You’re safe.”

            His eyes focused enough to see Sara Lance knelt over him, her face lit up only by the glow of a nearby fire. It was night already, and from the sound of things, he was far from the river. “Wha…what happened?”

            She smiled. “I’ve been tracking you for a few days now. Wells came by for a visit in Rohan and told me that you would need my help for your mission. I found you just in time to see you go over the cliff.”

            She shrugged, before moving away towards the fire. “I followed the current, found you on the river shore, somehow still alive, and have been nursing you back to health for hours. I thought you weren’t going to make it—then, that jewel around your neck started glowing. I guess your elf prince doesn’t want you dying, either.”

            Len’s hand shot up to his chain, and he fought to sit up. “Where are we?”

            “A few miles from where you fell in. We’ll make it to Minas Tirith in two days, if luck is with us.” Sara handed him half a loaf of hard bread. He accepted it graciously.

            “You sticking with me, Lance?” He smirked, nibbling on the edge of the bread.

            The lady snorted. “Someone’s got to save your ass.”

            And, for the first time since he left Rivendell, Len started to feel like maybe there was something worth living for.

0000000

            Barry risked one last glance back at his family as he followed the pilgrimage out the gates of Imladris. Iris and Wallace both waved solemnly, but Joe just gave him a small smile. Barry knew that his foster father truly believed this was the right course of action for him, and at this point, that was good enough for him.

            He smiled back sadly and adjusted his hood as he turned away.

 

 

_The white gulls are crying,_

_The wind is blowing, and the white foam is flying._

_West, west away, the round sun is falling,_

_Grey ship, grey ship, do you hear them calling,_

_The voices of my people that have gone before me?_

_I will leave, I will leave the woods that bore me;_

_For our days are ending and our years failing._

_I will pass the wide waters lonely sailing._

**Author's Note:**

> There is a second chapter written, but I haven't planned out my third chapter yet. This is on a whim, so I'll update it when I can. 
> 
> The next chapter takes place BEFORE this chapter. It explains why Len is there and what happened between him and Barry. 
> 
> Also, this isn't following LOTR canon too closely.


End file.
